Uncle Joe's Mint Balls are traditional mints produced by Wm Santus & Co. Ltd. in Wigan, Greater Manchester, England since 1898. Despite their name, the mints are not truly spherical but oblate spheroids. The ingredients of Uncle Joe's Mint Balls are: pure cane sugar, oil of peppermint and cream of tartar and are described on the tin as "suitable for vegans". The words "Gluten Free" are also on the tin lid.
The early mint balls were made by William Santus' wife, Ellen, before production moved to a factory near the Wigan rail in 1919.
The packaging, usually a sealed can, describes its contents as "pure and good", and "They keep you all aglow" and carries a picture of the mascot, a smiling man in a top hat.
British singer/songwriter and humorist Mike Harding has a song called "Uncle Joe's Mint Balls" on his 1975 album Mrs. 'Ardin's Kid.
On 16 February 2011, Wm Santus' Dorning Street factory produced the two-billionth Uncle Joe's Mint Ball, which was encased in resin and placed on display at the Museum of Wigan Life until March 17.
Famous quotes containing the words uncle joe, uncle, joe and/or balls:
“Uncle Joe Grandi: Who are you talking about?
Susan Vargas: I’m talking about you, you ridiculous, old- fashioned, jug-eared, lop-sided, little Caesar.
Uncle Joe Grandi: I didn’t get that, señora. You’ll have to talk slow.”
—Orson Welles (1915–1985)
“Is it not ironic, oh my husband? Your wife an adulteress. Your mother an adulteress. Your uncle an adulterer. Your friend an adulterer. Do you not find that amusing, dear Nicholas?”
—Richard Matheson (b. 1926)
“This might be the end of the world. If Joe lost we were back in slavery and beyond help. It would all be true, the accusations that we were lower types of human beings. Only a little higher than apes. True that we were stupid and ugly and lazy and dirty and, unlucky and worst of all, that God Himself hated us and ordained us to be hewers of wood and drawers of water, forever and ever, world without end.”
—Maya Angelou (b. 1928)
“If the head is lost, all that perishes is the individual; if the balls are lost, all of human nature perishes.”
—François Rabelais (1494–1553)